NE says I coddle her, but coddling in this world is just basic care. I tell her to stay in the bunker. She gets mad. The Black Market is too dangerous for someone like her. She always seemed so happy in the mornings. The mood you can’t help but feel on bright Friday afterrnoons. Though, I can’t get myself to blame her for it. She views life so positively. At least I know she’s safe in the bunker. If anyone were to die, I’d rather it be me than her. I approach our bunker. So small and inconspicuous. So many memories, yet I still can’t bring it in myself to call it home. It seems busier this midday. It feels darker. Grayer and moodier. It fills me with a sense of dread. Almost like… I’m back in front of the news broadcast. The one that changed all of our lives. I don’t linger on describing the feelings. Since for one, NE is the only one on my mind. I gently open the door. It smells of a putrid acid. What stupid thing could NE have done so to cause such a stench? “NE. I’m sorry for earlier,” I call out. I truly do feel sorry, but I can’t help but feel that my words fall flat as an apology. It’s hard to let myself be vulnerable— even in front of my own girlfriend. I say sorry so much, but sometimes I feel as though I don’t mean those words. I turn the lights on. They flicker to a dull gray. NE is here. She lays still. She doesn’t move. I approach her closer. My breath hitches. “NE?” I try saying sorry, but the words just don’t come out. I feel trapped in my own skin. I call out her name again. “NE?” She doesn’t call back. I poke at her unmoving body. “NE?” I call for the third time. She doesn’t answer me back. I poke at her a second time. She doesn’t react. Her body feels cold under my fingertips. “NE? I call for the fourth and final time. I envy her.
Characters and majority of the world building is owned by @kainesscanon. All writing owned by me or @retsukimaxxing on Scratch. No AI scrapping, translating, or remixing permitted. Crossposted on A03 under
